The only way out is through

Artfarm is the work

the field is myself 


to tell whereof the world has led me

        among streams and trees

    mountains and oceans

multiplicity of forms voices and colors harmonic

        spending breath getting rich 

in metaphysics 

        fields of grass 

urge to know       be one 

with all i see

feel      exult        and rejoice

    be glad & shit

keeping it real

the backpack of time’s wicked chariot

whirling spokes and mayhem

resplendent and awful 

            visual Mozart raga

cyclopaean monolith

where fingers walk and conjure


all this and more

but turn this stone to bread

sets you free  

        presto bingo

despite the rhymes of Milton

driven   shiftless     forge ahead

    find the way

that bell of recognition

nothing to forgive

forget     where

now brightens   stately     flashing

drop regret      sad leaves falling

colors fading    melancholic sloughs


Now begin anew

savour light       sweeping Auster 

    blooms teeming earth

stirs leaves of grass

among snowdrops and brambles

fresh pains and crochets

soothed by peepers and fireflies

        more ahead

good prolificity and plenty

these are not objects

shieldstools of power

exercised in useless pursuits

nevertheless necessary as angels

faerie feeds me

tree that i am       no program

root in earth     turn to light

persevere and 

        do not doubt

no atom despised

all matters equally

            nothing really matters

demands imagination


voice enacted

    oblique and true

only way out is through